She snorted in disgust. “Perhaps by Silas Veliant’s greed, but the Empress fights for honor and vengeance.”
“I’m sure that’s what she would have her soldiers believe is her motivation. It is likely the reason they tell themselves they fight, because it is much more palatable to face death in the name of honor than because it was the job you were hired to do. It’s certainly what Maridrinian soldiers tell themselves; that I can tell you for fact.”
Zarrah opened her mouth to argue that was ironic, given his people were honorless dogs, but then shut it again, as it was no argument against his point.
“Do you know who started the Endless War, Valcotta? Who threw the first punch?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “No one does, though of surety, both sides blame the other. The only thing that can be said with certainty is that an emperor and a king long dead both wanted this land and had too much pride in their hearts to split it down the middle. And though thousands have died to claim it, Nerastis sits in ruins and much of the land around it fallow. Anyone who thinks it is honorable to continue such a fight is a goddamned fool.”
Zarrah jerked, hand going to her weapon as fury rose in her heart. “If you had any concept of what your people have done to mine, the number of orphans they’ve left in their wakes, you’d—”
“I do understand, because your people have done the same to mine. And you must take a hard look at yourself if you think a child of Maridrina is worth less only because they don’t bend the knee to the same crown.” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Back and forth and back and forth, and all it yields is corpses, their children growing up with hate in their hearts to take up weapons and continue the cycle anew.”
His words were too close, too personal, though he couldn’t possibly know the truth. “What would you have us do? What other solution is there but to fight?”
Silence.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s easy to want change, but far more difficult to find ways to achieve it. And impossible to achieve it when those in power want the status quo, which is why I dream no further than finding a way to extract myself from these circumstances.”
She dropped her hand from her weapon, feeling oddly disappointed with his answer, though she wasn’t certain why. “What good are idealistic words when you do not act upon them? You criticize the actions of others but then lift up your hands in defeat when asked for solutions to the problem. I might be a fool, but at least I’m a fool who tries to make a difference. Whereas you are… useless.”
The Maridrinian visibly flinched, though he recovered swiftly. “Better useless than dead.”
“I disagree. If you truly believe in something, you should be willing to suffer for it. To die for it, if need be. Which tells me that you either don’t believe your own words or that you are a coward.”
He stared at her in silence, then said, “Valcotta, I believe you are far cleverer than I first gave you credit for.” The moon cast shadows across his too-handsome face. “And perhaps more of an idealist than you realize.”
An idealist? She blinked, then took a step forward to catch his arm. “Who are you?”
The smirk returned, and reaching down, he took her hand and lifted it, his lips just barely grazing her knuckles, the sensation making her stomach flip. “There is something to be said for anonymity, Valcotta. Especially when one’s mind is not aligned with the will of one’s country. And most especially when one is considering action.” He let go of her hand, her skin immediately begrudging the absence of his touch. “Good night.”
And without another word, he leaped over the spillway and disappeared into darkness.
15
KERIS
“It was on the floor of my room.” Keris handed the letter to Otis. “So you can cease and desist in your threats of the maidservants.”
Otis muttered, “I haven’t been threatening them.” His denial was at odds with the current state of the staff, which, since his brother had realized the letter was missing, could only be described as frazzled. “But how did it get in your room?”
“The answer will have to remain one of life’s great mysteries.” Settling himself on a chair, Keris sorted through a stack of his books on the neighboring table, the desire to read settling upon him in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. But instead he asked, “What word of Ithicana?”
He could feel his brother’s scrutiny, but Otis eventually said, “They are still fighting, despite the storms and our forces turning their own defenses against them. We’ve reopened trade along the bridge.”
“With the same trade terms as the Ithicanians used?”
Otis shook his head. “As compensation for the continued use of her navy, we are allowing the Amaridian Queen to use it without charge or tax.”
“That will have the Harendellians in a frenzy. Father tempts fate.”
“They won’t act until the next calm season. Losing their fleet isn’t worth it.”
Keris frowned at the book he’d chosen, though his consternation wasn’t over the contents. Their father was banking on the Ithicanians being defeated by the next calm, thus eliminating his need for the Amaridian navy and the cost associated with it. If Ithicana kept fighting, Maridrina would not only have war on all sides, but it would be bankrupt, which would mean increasing taxes on their already-belabored people. “Taking the bridge was folly.”
Otis made an aggrieved sound. “Never mind Ithicana. You promised to train with me, and don’t think I’m not convinced you didn’t steal my letter to cause enough of a stir to get yourself out of it.”
The Valcottan woman’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, his memory replaying how her jaw had tightened at the thought of having taken an item of sentiment and the hurt its loss would’ve caused. “Think what you’d like.”
Otis gave him a shove. “Find your sword and meet me in the stables. I need a gallop, and you need some sunlight—you’re the color of a corpse.”
“You’ve forgiven me, then?”
“Not even close. But you are my responsibility whether I wish it or not, so I have no choice but to endure your company. Now quit procrastinating and find your bloody sword.”